A Tale Called Sleeping Beauty
by Miss Lavender Sky
Summary: A re-do of Sleeping Beauty.


**This is just an updated version of the story of Sleeping Beauty. Just a little different than what you're used to!**

* * *

The King and Queen were extremely happy, as was the rest of the kingdom. There was a new royal, and she was as cute as could be.

It was little baby Rose and she was the most adorable thing anyone had ever seen.

Twelve fairies came in to give her a gift, blessing her, when a horrible, horrible witch came in.

But, you see, she wasn't as horrible as everyone said she was. She just had a very short temper. And I mean, really short.

But today she was in a good mood. She had just finished redecorating her castle, and she was very pleased to see how it had turned out.

In fact, she was so happy that she decided to give the new baby the gift of good style, just so that one day that little girl could redecorate rooms as prettily as the witch who had given her the wonderful gift. At least, she thought so.

Unfortunately, someone had had the horrible judgment to place a rattle inside the baby crib. Now, the baby had gotten quite attached to the rattle, and, as is with all children, if they get too attached to something, they tend to hit people with it.

That was where their problem started.

The witch leaned over the crib, peering at little baby Rose. She was, deep down, a softie, but that kind and gentle air could disappear faster than a lollipop in a child's hands.

The baby took one look at the witch, giggled, and then… WHACK! Everyone was silent as the witch lifted her head out of the baby crib, a big, round red mark taking up a considerable space on her left cheek.

Only the baby giggled. The witch turned to her furious. There was no way that she was going to give this baby any sense of decorating. Or any sense of anything like it.

"This baby will never have a sense of style for anything anymore!" she screamed and disappeared.

Everyone gasped. This was a horrible gift. Everyone knew that a princess had to look pretty and, most of all, keep everything else looking pretty. How would she do that without a sense of style?

Almost sixteen years later, on a day much like this one, Rose went to see the witch. She hadn't asked her mother and had no recollection of the day she'd gotten all her gifts, so she didn't know that it was not a good idea for her to talk to the witch.

All Rose knew was that she had absolutely no sense of style whatsoever, and the witch was known for, among other things, her fashion taste.

She walked up to the castle door and asked the guard there if it would be alright if she came in. He agreed and let her in.

She went into the living room. There was no doubt about it. The witch definitely did have a good sense of fashion. There were beautiful, hand-carved wood pieces, and a couch that matched the color of the walls exactly. She was definitely fashionable.

Which was why Rose had to see her. I mean, absolutely had to. There was a prince coming. He might end of marrying her, if he liked her. Rose got her say in the matter as well, only because her parents wanted her to be opinionated.

Rose was opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage, and she hated the idea of suitors coming in and out of the castle. Her castle.

But still. What if she realized that she liked one of them? Then she'd have to impress him, make him want to marry her. And what was a more important way of doing that than showing him her sense of fashion? Nothing, that was what.

But how could she impress him if she was horrible at it? She needed some pointers. Which was why she was at the witch's castle.

"Hello!" said Rose when she saw the witch. The witch looked at her, furious. She, of course, recognized her. It was a witch's instinct.

"How dare you!" she thundered. "Come marching in here, coming to ask advice?"

Rose just stared at her. Why was this lady so rude? What on earth had she done to make her so angry?

"Well, I was just wondering…" started Rose. "And why do you think I made sure that, sixteen years ago, you would have no sense of style whatsoever, and here you are begging for some. What kind of witch holds up her head, then caves?" asked the witch.

She glared at Rose. "A really bad one, that's who! For your impertinence, you will have another curse. On your sixteenth birthday-"

"But that's today!" whined Rose.

"So it is," said the witch. "Now stop interrupting me! On your sixteenth birthday, you will poke yourself on a…oh, what's it called? I never can remember! It's got a little wheel, it's, well, it's usually black, and um, it, you use it for sewing…"

"A spindle?" offered Rose.

"Yes, that's it, spindle! You shall poke yourself on a spindle and fall asleep until your true love sees you."

"Um, I have two questions," said Rose.

"What are they?" asked the witch. "Why do you give such random curses- no sense of style, poking yourself on a spindle? Why not just stick with regular curses?"

The witch pondered this for a moment. "I like standing out. Nobody grants quite the same curses as I do. Never ever. And people always remember me," she said. "That's a nice part about my job. I'm always remembered. I like that part."

Rose nodded.

"But you're still gonna get poked by the spindle!" taunted the witch.

Rose wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, right. Nobody uses a stupid spindle anymore. Hardly anyone sews now and if they do, they use machines. And before that, there were sewing needles. I'll bet nowadays, people don't even remember what a spindle is!" replied Rose.

"People do too use spindles!" shot the witch. "All the time!" She was angry because she knew that Rose was right, and she hated it when other people were right- especially if that meant that she was wrong.

"Whatever!" retorted the witch. "You're still gonna get poked by it, and you won't wake up for a long time!"

Witches, as it happens, can make themselves any age they choose. This witch decided to be younger, about seventeen or sixteen. The problem was that sometimes they get so wrapped up in it that they start acting that age. So, that was probably why this witch was acting more like seventeen than any other age.

Rose got up and turned to leave. "Oh, you don't know anything. I'd more likely be run over in the street by a horse-drawn carriage," she said. And she was right. No one rode those anymore. Her town was modern; they liked cars, and carriages hadn't been seen for several years, since before Rose had been born.

Rose walked outside, slammed the enormous, wooden door- not an easy task, I must say- thanked the guard, and made on her way out.

As she stepped out into the street, she heard a yell and the sound of hooves. "Move out of the way!" screamed a carriage- driver, who'd lost control of his horses. He zoomed past Rose and very nearly hit her.

He managed out okay, and no one got hurt, so that was okay.

But Rose was badly shaken. On the inside, at least. What if the witch's spell really did come true?

When she got home, her mother insisted that they should repair a minor tear in one of her everyday dresses. She wanted everything perfect while this prince was here.

Rose agreed, tired of arguing, and followed her mother up to the top tower, where they did all their sewing- Rose and her mother booth loved to look out the window every once in a while; they thought it was refreshing.

"So, Mother? Are we going to use the machine?" Rose asked, before her mother had opened the door.

"No," said her mother. "This is different, from my day."

Rose's mother put her hand over Rose's eyes and led her a few steps inside. Rose sighed. She hated it when her mother did this, and, to tell the truth, she did it quite often.

"Voila!" she announced, taking her hand off her daughter's face.

It was an old-fashioned spindle, black as ashes, with a wheel, and the sharpest needle that Rose had ever seen.

That was all Rose remembered before she fainted, her hand falling directly onto the needle point.

Somewhere, several miles away from Princess Rose was a prince, and he was getting ready to meet a princess in a far of castle. His name was Bradley. In the castle, you didn't use last names if you were royalty. You just had to say 'Prince Bradley' and everyone would know who you were.

He was to be one of her suitors-his mother had insisted- but he really didn't like the idea. He was sure that the girl would be alright, but he didn't like being forced into something.

But, as his mother said, he had to. It was his duty as the prince. Sometimes he wished he wasn't a prince. Then he wouldn't have to do this.

But he was, and so he was going to see one of his choices tonight.

He didn't think that she'd like him. He had brown, unruly hair, freckles, and had to wear glasses because his eyesight was just horrible. And he was pale too. That didn't help much.

He was a nice person, he really was, but not many people had seen that. They just saw him as a geek.

He was so angry with himself. Well, his child self. It had been a long time ago, before he could even babble.

Okay, you're probably wanting the story, because you definitely want to know what could have possibly happened that would have done this.

When he was born- which, as it happened, was the same day as Rose was born- everyone in the kingdom had come to see him.

Especially fairies. He wasn't too attached to fairies, but he didn't mind them. They were alright.

But there was one, one particular fairy- well, alright, she was called a witch because she was usually so mean, and everyone said that she was a witch because all witches were mean (which is incredibly untrue; there a plenty of splendidly nice witches out there; have you met any?)- who had come to see him. She was the last person to see him all day.

He didn't remember much about that day, except for a rather pretty, pointed face, with green eyes, peering over his crib. There was something else about her: she had a large, round red mark on her left cheek. He had pondered that very much, but, when he couldn't come up with an explanation to that, he just said that he'd imagined that part.

Anyway, she looked a little stressed, like someone who had already had a rough day, then gone home to meditate, but got interrupted. As it was, that was what had happened.

She tried to be nice for the baby, she really had. But when you have a short temper, and it has already been tried once, you can't stand much. No, not at all. She was like a stick of dynamite, with a very, very short line. One little spark hit it, and, within seconds, KABLAM-O!

He had sure sparked it all right. She came in, leaned in over his crib, and meant to give him the gift of good looks, but that was not to be.

Someone had given the baby a stuffed bear. Now, this bear was stuffed alright, but he was by no means soft. It was made of course, stiff, hard material. It was mostly given because it lasted longest.

Bradley had gotten very attached to the bear. By the end of the day, he could not be separated from it.

So when the witch put her head, the baby tried to show her the bear- even babies can be proud of things they like- and accidentally held it too high and hit the witch!

She pulled her head out. Now her right cheek was red too. She looked like she was blushing furiously.

"Prince Bradley!" she screeched. "You will get your gift: you will be an incredible geek until your true love sees you!"

And then everyone gasped, because this was a horrible gift. Nobody liked being a geek, especially if you were royalty.

Bradley sighed. And that was why he was opposed to an arranged marriage. If he got married to some random, how could he meet his true love?

"Bradley!" screeched a horrible voice, and he almost thought it was the witch. But it was only his mother. But Bradley couldn't be sure that she wasn't a witch, either.

"Are you ready?" she called.

"Yes, Mother!" he called back. He hated how she made him call her 'Mother.' Everybody else called their mothers 'Mom.'

He looked in the mirror. He was as ready as he'd ever be.

It took all day to drive to the castle, even in a car. Bradley was very proud of his car- he'd built it himself- a sleek, black sports car.

When he got to the castle, he saw everyone weeping. He thought it was strange, but he'd been to stranger castles- there was Princess Bailey, who had a castle where all the servants were dressed like dolls, and Princess Taylor, who'd stereos crammed into every corner of every room, and had music playing non-stop.

He kept going. He looked around. He had no idea what to do. He stopped a weeping man in the street. "Where can I find the Princess Rose?" he asked. Then man pointed to the topmost tower of the castle, then walked away, weeping more horribly than ever.

He found someone else who seemed less likely to burst into tears, but he seemed quite melancholy. "Why is everyone weeping?" asked Bradley.

"Princess Rose has been cursed. She will sleep forever until her true love comes," replied the man.

Bradley stared at him. "But why do you care so much?" he asked. All the princess he had seen were all snooty and rude, and he was sure that everyone would gladly have a curse like this be put on them.

The man looked at him in amazement. "Princess Rose is the nicest princess one could ask for her. Most of 'em just sit up there in their castle and make us do work, but she helped us. Came down every morning. Helped every single person in her kingdom, earned their trust the hard way," he said. "And pretty. She's real pretty, prettier than anyone had ever seen. Everyone loves her. You can't not love her."

Bradley nodded, thanked the man, and headed up to the castle. This princess sounded incredible. But if she was so pretty, would she like Bradley the way he was?

He ran up to the castle and thrust open the door. He found the stairs leading up to the castle, and scrambled up them, two at a time.

He thrust open the door at the top, and saw her.

She was beautiful, that was for sure. The man had definitely not lied about that. She had pale skin, and rosy cheeks, and a beautiful curtain of golden hair fell about her.

She opened her eyes. The curse had been lifted. Her true love had seen her.

And instead of seeing Bradley, the geek, she saw Bradley, the most handsome prince she had ever seen. For that spell, too, had broken.

They both realized what had happened, and fell in love instantly. It is, of course, easy to do that with your true love.

Just then there was a big cloud of smoke. Bradley thought it was out of the ordinary, but then again, didn't everyone have something wrong with them, be it people dressed as dolls, music night and day, or large clouds of smoke.

But Rose knew better. It was the witch.

She was talking through the smoke. "I just wanted to stop by and see how well my wonderful spell had worked!" She coughed. "Ugh! I have to stop traveling by smoke. I'm sure to get some type of lung disease. Now wouldn't that be horrible? That's why people shouldn't smoke, it's bad for them, especially if you're always traveling by smoke, too because-" The smoke had cleared and she saw them. "Hey! That is so not supposed to happen!"

Rose and Bradley laughed. The witch glared at them. "Well, you-you both suck!" she said finally, and, as she was about to disappear into smoke again, she thought better of it, and took the door out.

Rose and Bradley smiled. They were both happier than could be. Their curses had been lifted, and they had found their true love. A day well done.

As time went on, everything went beautifully. Bradley and Rose eventually got married. Rose's parents were happy that their daughter was happy, and Bradley's parents were glad that he had found someone. And his mother started treating him nice since the curse had lifted. Plus, he could call her Mom.

And Rose became the most stylish person in the kingdom, and Bradley lost his geeky ways, so everyone was pleased.

About ten years later, they had a baby girl named Nichole. She was beautiful, kind, and talented, just like her parents- her mother was a lovely singer, and her father was the best horseback-rider for miles.

Bradley and Rose became friends with the witch, and helped her get into yoga for her stress problems.

But, just to be on the safe side, when it came time for people to give gifts to baby Nichole, they asked that no toys be given- especially rattles or teddy bears.


End file.
